


The Formation of the First Hogwarts Autism Group

by FallacyFallacy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Autistic Hermione Granger, Autistic Luna Lovegood, Friendship, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 05:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15381552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallacyFallacy/pseuds/FallacyFallacy
Summary: “It’s just – Luna… are you autistic?”You tilt your head, trying to understand the word; it almost reaches your shoulder.“I don’t know what that means...” you say slowly.





	The Formation of the First Hogwarts Autism Group

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mlraven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlraven/gifts).



If you exit the castle on the Hogsmeade side and follow the path around the lake, you will soon pass a line of willows on the Eastern side. Pull back the curtains of leaves and there you will find a wide field of wildflowers, yellow and orange in the Springtime, laced with bushes tall and short like a natural labyrinth. There it is quiet, save for the lapping of waves – even when other students pass to and fro, they can scarcely be heard unless they shriek.

You’ve never seen anyone else here, and it is your favourite place.

Sometimes you simply wander about, craning your neck to gaze up at the crest of oaks, framed by distant mountains, or pacing satisfying patterns through the grass. Other times you sit, eyes closed, breathing in the slight smell of pine and sweet pollen and listening for the chirrups and trills of birdsong. 

Today, your object is slightly different. A new edition of the Quibbler was delivered yesterday, and though you have already read it (within half an hour of its opening, of course), your mind is still so full of excitement at its contents. Your father had written a new article regarding blibbering humdingers and their proper raising, and in every line you can see your influence – the research you had conducted and the conclusions you had reached, printed there for all the world to learn. You can’t stop thinking about whether or not this might inspire some further interest in the subject – oh, how great it is to tell the world of what you enjoy so much!

And so you are skipping even before you reach your little glade, fingers rubbing against one another in excitement. And once you find your place on the path, you can’t help but linger at the willow, running a hand down a tendril – the feeling is so soft and delicate that you can’t help but shiver in delight. Feeling the excitement bubbling up, you push your arm through it, readying yourself for an afternoon of pure enjoyment -

“Where are you going?”

It takes a moment for the sound to register. Slowly, you turn.

Hermione stands before you. Harry and Ron aren’t around, which is unusual.

“...past the tree,” you say.

“Yes, that’s obvious, but – oh, it doesn’t matter. Sorry, that’s not what I wanted to say.”

You wait.

“It’s just – Luna… are you autistic?”

You tilt your head, trying to understand the word; it almost reaches your shoulder.

“I don’t know what that means...” you say slowly.

“So you really haven’t ever heard of it.”

You really try to remember. It’s an interesting word, with a nice sound to it – you always did like s sounds. _Autissstic._

“I don’t think so.”

Hermione lets out a loud noise that almost makes you jump. Then she crosses her arms.

“I knew it! Wizards really don’t know anything about it at all… it’s ridiculous! I understand that magic is very important in the wizarding world, but I swear, they can have such tunnel vision! Muggles have made all kinds of really important advances in the last hundred years, you know? We’re not all still just… giving people leeches and pronouncing them cursed!”

“I’m sorry,” you say, with some confusion.

“No, no! Ugh, I’m still doing this wrong. It’s not your fault! I just… well.” Hermione sighs, head falling forward. “It’s just that I am – autistic, I mean. But, nobody in the wizarding world seems to know anything about it at all, and when I thought about it, I realised that maybe you were? So I wanted to talk to you to ask… but I should have known. Even Professor McGonagall didn’t know anything about it, when I first came here and told her about it. It’s just… frustrating!”

You’re still not really sure what to say.

“My parents were concerned about sending me, you know, for that reason – they always spoke to my teachers about it and everyone was generally very understanding. They really wanted to talk to Dumbledore personally, but he was too busy, I think… but I told them that I’d learned all about it myself – read all the books I could get my hands on! - and I’d seen them talk to people, so I thought I’d be fine to do it myself? But Professor McGonagall clearly had no idea what I was talking about… and it’s not as though I was asking for much, you know? Just some reasonable allowances to account for my sensory sensitivities and so on. But she said she’d speak to Dumbledore and then nothing happened and I asked her again but she said I was bothering her and then there was that whole thing with the troll and it didn’t seem appropriate-”

“Troll?”

Hermione stammers.

“I – uh – that’s not important right now!”

You run your hand up and down a branch again. 

“The point is – being autistic is just about, well… being different. I could quote you the DSM but I don’t know if it’d mean much out of context… but I really think you might be like me. And since it helped me so much, learning about it, maybe it would for you too?”

Finally Hermione stops talking, and doesn’t continue even after several beats.

Honestly, it’s hard to imagine yourself and Hermione sharing anything in common. She hadn’t seemed to like you very much during your first meeting. And she had insulted the Quibbler, which is as good as insulting yourself.

But this was the most that Hermione had ever spoken to you, and while she seemed angry, it didn’t seem directed at you at all. In fact, she seemed to be waiting eagerly for your response.

“All right...” you say eventually. “What do I need to do?”

Hermione lets out a squeal, clapping her hands together. “Thank you, thank you – this is going to be so good! I’ll get a book for you (maybe even two – I’m not sure I could choose which’d be best for a newcomer) and you can read it and then you’ll understand everything, I promise!”

With that, she spins around, and begins marching back towards the castle.

Your fingers curl into fists, and you close your eyes, shivering over your whole body.

You still don’t understand Hermione at all, but repeating her words in your head, you can’t help but be optimistic.

*

It takes a few days for Hermione to approach you again. 

You see her in the Great Hall sometimes, but she always seems to be busy talking to Harry and Ron, and you still aren’t sure she wants to spend time with you – she had been pretty focused on the book during your last meeting, after all. And that is fine with you – you’re pretty sure you can handle reading a book, after all.

(You do ask Ginny during Charms how she is doing, however. Apparently, she’s been in Gryffindor Tower most of the time - ‘studying as always,’ Ginny relates with rolled eyes.)

So it’s a surprise when you turn down your usual corridor for lunch and hear footsteps following you.

“Where are you going this time?”

It’s Hermione, and that immediately sets a hopeful smile upon your face.

“Lunch,” you say, holding up your plate.

“Why aren’t you eating with the other Ravenclaws?”

You shrug. “It’s a bit loud and noisy in there for me. And nobody really wants to talk to me, anyway.”

“Oh, I totally know what you mean about the noise! I always keep ear protectors on me, honestly. Oh no, I should’ve asked for some for you, too – but, well, we’ll find out all about that once you read… this!”

With that, Hermione rummages through her bag and produces a book reading ‘Autism Spectrum Disorder And You’ on the cover.

But honestly, you’re more interested in the book itself. It’s so bright and glossy, mostly coloured a brilliant red, a shiny in the lamplight. When you touch it, it’s incredibly smooth, and you stroke the pads of your fingers over it, scratching slightly at the embossed lettering at the top.

“Oh – wizarding books aren’t like this, are they?” Hermione was close again, fidgeting animatedly with her robes. “Yes, I was just the same when I first came here – leather books are kind of rare for muggles these days, and are normally very old and not supposed to be touched… Oh, when I first came into the library for the first time, I could barely contain myself – it just felt so amazing to put my hands over it!”

Your eyes widen. “You enjoy touching things, too?”

“Yes!” Hermione almost cries out. “It’s called stimming, and it’s really common among autistic people! I didn’t even think about it with you… you really do it too?”

You nod, excitement growing within you, as well. “Yes – the other day, when I was going through the willow, there’s a really nice place through there where you can touch all of the leaves and flower petals...”

“This is so great! I’ve never met another person who liked to stim like this! It’s always been just me!”

Suddenly, Hermione’s hands were over yours on the book. “You absolutely have to read this now! I promise you, everything I’ve been saying will make sense!”

You nod, slowly. Honestly, you’d never really thought much about your propensity for running your hand over things – it was just a nice thing to do. But if Hermione said all this, she must be right, because everyone knew she was one of the smartest witches in Hogwarts.

And, even though you’d never known it wasn’t normal, it was nice to have something in common with a friend.

“I will,” you say.

“Ah, I’m really excited about this, now! I knew I was on to something!” Hermione leapt back, glancing briefly behind her. “I should really get back to lunch, now – Harry and Ron’ll be wondering where I am… You don’t mind if I tell them all about this, right? I forgot to ask you before – obviously, outing someone isn’t good!”

Your eyebrows raise. “Of course it’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well… it’s kind of complicated.” She shifted, turning away. “But I really should be back. Let me know when you’ve finished it!” she said, already passing around the corner, out of sight.

You spread your hands over the book, before opening it; even the paper felt different, somehow.

You roll back on your heels, eager to begin.

*

Your last class ends at three thirty that afternoon. It’s herbology, so it takes some time to get back to your common room – by the time you reach your dormitory room and retrieve the book from your bag, it’s four.

At five past four, you start reading.

At two AM, you finish.

You shut the book slowly, still barely aware of the darkness that has crept in around you. Your mind is swirling, thoughts and feelings twisting and turning too rapidly to catch. There is still so much you didn’t understand, and you instinctively open the book again to re-read it – your father doesn’t seem at all like the parents this book talks about, but then again your father would seem to be very autistic by its standards as well, so maybe that is a different case? - but you close it again soon, too lost in thought to read now.

You have wanted friends for as long as you could remember. It never really bothered you that the friends you tried to make always seemed to be so different from yourself – your father always told you that you weren’t being bullied because you were different, but because those kids were mean. And you don’t know any other way you _could_ be, so it almost wasn’t worth thinking about.

But if this book was right, there really are a lot of other kids like you. Many of whom want to make friends just as much as you do.

Kids like Hermione.

You don’t sleep at all that night, wriggling with glee at what you have learned. Your fondness for uncommon magical creatures was your special interest! Your habit of running your hands over things was stimming!

You have never minded being different – you couldn’t imagine any other alternative. But for the first time, you feel like you belonged, and to a vast group of other kids who would be delighted to be friends with you. Friends you had simply never met!

You go to meet Hermione at breakfast, coming into the hall early and hovering around the Gryffindor table, ignoring the glances of nearby students.

As soon as Hermione sees you, she rushes over.

“Have you read it?” she asks at the same time as you say, “I’m autistic!”

Hermione squeals. “You are! I knew it!” She grabs your hands excitedly, and though it startles you, you enjoy the contact greatly. “It explains so much, doesn’t it?”

You nod rapidly. You barely notice Harry and Ron sitting down nearby, sending you both confused glances. 

“It does! Though I still have some questions,” you say.

You wouldn’t have thought it possible for Hermione to bounce even faster, but hearing your words she almost seems to vibrate. “Yes please! Ask me anything you want!”

You spend all breakfast like this, telling her everything you’ve learned and how it applies to you (“Mmm – I already sent an owl to my parents after yesterday asking for some ear protectors for you, so that should help a lot!”) and the things you’re still not sure about (“Yeah, my parents are autistic too, so they told me to just ignore all those sections. Honestly, most books are written from even more of a neurotypical viewpoint!”). By the end, you still haven’t eaten, and the lack of sleep is starting to catch up with you, but you couldn’t be happier.

“I still can’t believe wizards don’t know _anything_ about all this, though...” Hermione finishes with, shaking her head. “Aren’t you interested at all in how people work?”

“Of course we are,” you explain. “For example, I am phlegmatic. And you would definitely be choleric, which is the rarest humour, so that’s very special!”

Hermione pauses for a moment, and then says, “That isn’t what actually passes for psychology among wizards, is it, or is that just a you thing…?”

You blink.

And then you turn away. You’d forgotten, in all your excitement, that this is still _Hermione._

“ _I_ believe in it,” you say stiffly.

There is another beat, and then Hermione groans – so loudly that multiple other nearby Gryffindors jump. 

“I’m sorry, Luna – I didn’t mean that! Well, I mean...” 

You’re not very good at reading faces, but from the way Hermione slumps over the table, voice coming out strained and forced, even you can tell she feels guilty.

“I just – I do have a habit of saying things without thinking, or realising that it might hurt people… and that’s not an excuse, I know, so I’m trying to do better, but...”

Ah, you realise. A tendency towards bluntness – you’d only skimmed that part of the book, because you didn’t relate to that at all. But now that you think about it, it does seem to fit Hermione well.

You think back – how did the book say to accommodate such a trait?

“It makes me feel bad when you act like me or my father are crazy,” you inform her. “I know you don’t believe in what I do, which is also sad but understandable, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t assume I was wrong and insult me for it.”

“Y-yes – yes, I understand!” Hermione looked up again finally, mouth pursed. “I’ll try not to do that again! And yes, thank you – please do tell me when I say something hurtful! Harry and Ron do it all the time and it really helps!”

You smile, slowly. In the beginning, you have to admit, you had thought of Hermione in the same way you had your other bullies. But you were totally wrong. She really was like you, after all.

“Okay! Now that’s sorted...” Hermione leaned forward. “We need to start working out the club!”

Your eyebrows raise. “Club?”

“Of course!” Hermione nods enthusiastically. “We have the two of us, after all, so in a school this size there’s bound to be more! And though I wasn’t successful convincing Professor McGonagall about the importance of autistic accessibility when it was just me, when there’s a whole club of us, she’ll have to listen!”

“A club...” you repeat, imagining it.

“It’s a great idea, isn’t it? Oh, there are so many changes we could make around here, things that could really help out students in need – we almost have a moral obligation to try it out!”

You nod slowly. “That makes sense.”

“So! I was thinking that we should organise something like an open day, you know? Like, we can make posters and put them up, and try and go around telling people about it, and then if anyone is interested they can come by and see the club for themselves! All we’ll need to do is find a good empty classroom where we could fit enough people-”

“We should use my clearing,” you say.

Hermione pauses. “The one I saw you at the other day?”

You nod quickly, liking this idea the more you thought about it. “It’d be perfect – it’s nice and wide, and not too hard to get too but also good and quiet, and it has so many nice things to stim with!”

Hermione nods slowly. “Interesting – I hadn’t even thought about holding it outside. I suppose it’d depend on the weather, but it is only early Autumn, so it should be fine… yes, I like it! Good thinking, Luna!”

You beam all through Hermione’s planning, and when you leave, it’s with a spring in your step.

You cannot wait for this club!

*

Your first class is Charms and you almost fall asleep.

At the end, Professor Flitwick takes you aside and hands you a cup of tea.

“Are you all right, Miss Lovegood? You don’t seem at all your usual self this morning!”

You smile in thanks and take the mug, warming your hands. “Sorry, Professor. But I was gifted a truly fascinating book yesterday afternoon, and I simply couldn’t wait to read it all!”

Flitwick whistles and shakes his head. “Oof, a good book – I can’t say I haven’t been there myself! But do try to keep your studies in mind, young lady. Your days in Hogwarts are limited and priceless!”

You nod. “Yes, Professor – I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I didn’t say it shouldn’t ever happen,” Flitwick said with a wink. “Some books are worth it.”

You smile. “It’s Hermione’s,” you explain. “I think I’m making friends with her.”

“Hermione Granger? How lovely – I’ve rarely met a brighter witch! And such a good girl, too.” He nods. “I’m sure you’ll make wonderful friends.”

You close your eyes to nod, but somehow your head falls too far and suddenly you’re blinking rapidly, barely keeping yourself awake.

“...but maybe you ought to go take a nap, just for now,” he continues. “I’ll tell your teacher – what’s next, arithmancy?”

“Yes,” you murmur, just the thought of a nap making it hard to keep your eyes open.

Flitwick chuckles. “I’ll tell Professor Vector. You go sleep. Can’t be making friends while you can barely stay awake, after all!”

You’re asleep the instant you lie down, but you’re happy.

*

Over the next week, you and Hermione spend all your spare time working on the club.

Hermione does most of the work setting it up, creating the posters and putting them up around the castle, and even standing in the hallways to hand them out to passers by when she doesn’t have any homework. You take some as well and put them up in the Ravenclaw common room, and then spend a day wandering the halls, putting posters up at various intervals; you don’t meet any other interested students, but get a lot of support from the paintings, many of whom you’ve developed quite a rapport with by now.

Hermione also handles talking to Professor McGonagall, and relates back that she has promised to properly bring it up with Dumbledore this time (Hermione cuts off more than one sentence fuming that she apparently hadn’t done so earlier, but all’s well that ends well), so you tell Professor Flitwick about it as well, and he is delighted at the opportunity to help out.

“Though I must say I have never heard of this ‘autistic’ thing… is it some muggle technology?” he admits, looking up from the poster.

“Oh, in a way, I suppose,” you reply. “But it’s not a thing – it’s a word used for people who are a bit different to the normal!”

Flitwick laughs awkwardly. “Why, but you’re perfectly normal...”

You frown. “You’re the first person to ever say that, so if I may be frank, I’d rather say that you are the one who is different, there.”

Flitwick starts to speak and stops himself several times before rolling the poster up and nodding firmly at you.

“Well, I’ll be happy to be there for you.”

You ask Ginny as well, during Potions. She listens to your explanation without comment, but when you mention the day her face falls.

“Oh, Luna – I’m sorry, I’d love to come, but it’s Michael Corner’s birthday on Sunday, and I already promised I’d go…”

“That’s okay,” you say despite your disappointment. “I understand.”

“It’s just, well.” She chews her lip, eyes darting away. “He asked me specifically, you know? And I didn’t really know what to do – it almost sounded like a date, but then I heard heaps of his friends were going, but he still asked me _specifically_ , and I always liked, well, you know, but Michael’s always acted really nice to me and I kind of decided that, well, maybe I should just go and see how things turn out, and-”

“I don’t mind. You really should go,” you say.

Ginny hugs you. “Thank you so much Luna – I’ll tell you all about it afterwards! It really might not be anything, we barely know each other, but he’s just… so _nice_...”

You don’t ask your dormmates. You know they’re not interested.

And through it all is Hermione, sending you smiles now and then, asking for your opinion (even if she usually does things her own way, anyway). 

You read through the book again, and imagine all of the people who will come on Sunday.

*

On the day, you and Hermione get there early ‘to set up’.

Personally, you had just kind of assumed you’d all meet up there and that’d be it, but Hermione insists that you’ll need tables and chairs, so you levitate a few in from the castle with you. A few people stare, but Hermione holds her head high and pays them no heed, just as you would, so you face no trouble at all.

Hermione has been even busier than you thought, you discover, as once the table is set up she retrieves from a large bag a whole pile of books and flyers, as well as a handy selection of ear-coverings and a few odd-looking colourful objects.

“Stim toys!” she explains, squeezing a ball shaped one. “Feel free to grab some!”

You try out one or two, but there’s really no need in your clearing. In no time at all, temptation wins out, and you spend a while pacing around, running fingers carefully over spiked branches and pinching together soft tiny flower stems.

Hermione is ready half an hour beforehand.

“Good! I was starting to worry I’d brought too much – it’d be really embarrassing if we couldn’t greet visitors personally because I was still too busy getting everything together!” She puts her hands on her hips. “So! How many people do you think you attracted?”

You ponder that.

“Oh, no-one, probably.”

Hermione stares. “You – what? You didn’t talk to anyone?”

“I asked Ginny, but she has a birthday party to go to,” you say.

“Nobody else?”

You blink at her slowly. “Nobody else wants to talk to me, really.”

“O-oh. I mean, I’d just go up to people but… I guess not everyone wants to do that.” She chews her lip. “But – you had posters, too! Surely someone must’ve seen them!”

“I didn’t really see anyone looking,” you admit. “And, most of the places I go are usually empty...”

When Hermione doesn’t respond, you add, “a lot of the portraits seemed interested, though! They all said they’d be willing to help out if we needed it.”

“Yes, but…” Hermione is still biting her lip; it’s starting to look a little painful. “Surely there must be someone in this castle who would be interested! Even if not for themselves, they must at least know a friend or family member who’s autistic – and if you came across something that could help you understand that, why wouldn’t you want to learn more?”

“A lot of wizards aren’t really interested in opening their minds to new things,” you say. “They can be frightfully closed-minded.”

“But...but!”

And then, all of a sudden, Hermione was falling into a chair, covering her face with her hands.

“No… it can’t be...” she mumbled. “This shouldn’t be like SPEW at all, I actually have someone with me this time, I thought I was doing better…!”

“But it’s not as though no-one will come,” you try to say. “Didn’t you talk to anyone?”

“A few… but I didn’t exactly get any definite responses...”

“Then what about Harry and Ron?”

“Doing homework,” Hermione mumbles. “I told them to do it yesterday but they didn’t listen…” Her voice gets even quieter. “And then Ron said nobody was going to come anyway and Harry told him off for being rude but he basically agreed and I totally blew up at them and Harry said they were just trying to be realistic and it made me so _mad_ but maybe he was right...”

You remember - “oh, Professor Flitwick will be coming.”

Hermione wails. “Teachers don’t count!”

You don’t know what to say. Hermione remains with her head in her hands. 

It’s a nice day – the sun is out, and the air is warm without being hot. You can hear the lapping of the lake in the distance, and the faint buzz of bees pollinating the white flowers. You rub at a leaf you plucked earlier to hold on to – it has such a fascinating texture, thick and waxy, making pleasing indents when you press your fingernail into it.

“Even if nobody comes,” you say, “I won’t mind.”

Hermione turns to you instantly. “How can you say that? After all this work we put into this club?”

“But it’s such a nice place,” you say, holding your hand out. “And I’m with one of my best friends in the world.”

Hermione stares at you.

“...you really think I’m one of your best friends?”

You frown. “Don’t you?”

“I – of course I do! Luna...” Hermione stands and walks over to you, voice passionate again. “I know we disagree on a lot, but it’s meant so much to me to meet someone like myself. And, well… it’s made me realise what a good person you are, too! You put so much of yourself into helping me out with this, even though you didn’t care as much as I do. And you’ve always been so nice to me, even when I said really rude things right to your face. You’re a great person and I’d feel honoured to be your friend.”

You don’t know how to respond – because your throat feels tight.

“Thank you. Nobody’s ever said something so nice to me in my life, besides my father,” you say, eyes a little wet.

“Then everyone else is an idiot. And – if anyone says or does anything mean to you, do tell me as soon as you can! Or Ginny!”

“Yes, she said the same.” You rub your eyes. “I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to say your club wasn’t important. I would be disappointed if we didn’t get to meet any new people today.”

“That’s fine.” Hermione waves her hand. “I know what you meant.”

“You are choleric, after all. I’m afraid I’m a little too melancholic to always see things from your point of view, but I will try.”

“I don’t believe that humours really exist, but I understand their use as a means of categorising human personality types, and understand and accept what you mean.”

You beam. “Thank you.”

And then, from behind you, there is a rustle.

“This is what the poster said, right?”

“It can’t be. Damn, I should have known to bring one with me...”

“You can’t just take them! They’re for everyone to read!”

Hermione gasps. Her eyes meet yours. She swallows.

“Y-yes, we are in here!” she calls out.

The voices go silent. And then - 

“Erm… how are we supposed to get through again?”

It’s a pair of second-years neither of you have ever met before. 

“I’m autistic,” announces the Slytherin proudly. “It’s absolutely bonkers that nobody here even knows what that means!”

“Well it’s not like you knew anything about magic before you came here, so how should we know about muggle things?” the Ravenclaw complains. “You didn’t even know about the four humours!”

You’re not sure exactly what Hermione’s expression reveals, but you’re pretty sure she’s very happy.

Over the next half hour, several more people arrive – two sixth years, a seventh year, and then, to your surprise, Colin Creevey and his little brother.

“I didn’t know you were autistic,” you say.

“I didn’t, either!” he says, as cheerful as ever. “I mean, I still might not be, but your poster was really interesting, and so I thought I’d check it out!” He looks around. “Where’s Harry?”

“He didn’t come,” Hermione says.

His hands, holding his camera, drop. “Oh.”

“Feel free to take pictures, though!” Hermione says, and then claps her hands together. “In fact, we should do a group photo, to commemorate the occasion!”

And so you all gather together, arranged in front of your favourite tree (Hermione even asks you specifically for your direction, which you are only too happy to provide). You end up with Dennis on your left and the Slytherin second-year on your right, closer than you’ve ever been with a group of friends before.

You look for Hermione. She’s already smiling at you.

You beam back, and the camera flashes.


End file.
